Catastrophic Designs
by outside the crayon box
Summary: "I don't wanna be your friend — I just wanna be your lover." / Experiencing homosexual attraction is bad enough for Harry Potter, but experiencing homosexual attraction towards his evil, sarcastic, rapacious, arrogant, blonde, pureblood nemesis is a thousand times worse.


**title: _catastrophic designs_  
chapter: _1_  
summary: _"i don't wanna be your friend — i just wanna be your lover." / experiencing homosexual attraction is bad enough for harry potter, but experiencing homosexual attraction towards his evil, sarcastic, rapacious, arrogant, blonde, pureblood nemesis is a thousand times worse._  
author: _outside the crayon box  
_ rating: _t  
_ warnings: _other than the aforestated homosexual attraction, there is implied but very indirect child abuse, some cursing, and fighting. don't get pissed off about something that is in these warnings.  
_ notes: _dudley is fourteen, three years older than harry. also, i'm not british but i am trying to use british terminology. this is decently au, so not everything happens exactly the same way. if anything really bothers you, tell me in a review please._**

* * *

The day Harry Potter was accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Aunt Petunia Dursley's screams reached the heavens. Even from his bedroom upstairs, Harry could picture it: her neck stretched forwards, her brown eyes watering, the vein in her cheek bulging with furious insistence.

 _"Blasphemy!"_ she was hollering. Something crashed to the floor, and the cry of shattering glass echoed through the house. "We _tried_ , didn't we, Vernon? We did _everything_ we could. Hard work clearly just does _not_ pay off in the end. But _you_ would know that more than anyone, _wouldn't_ you?"

Now Uncle Vernon was yelling. "I go to work every day to support our family, not to mention that good-for-nothing _boy_ who was forced on us by _your_ sister, Petunia! You have no right, no _bloody_ right, to criticize _me_ when _you_ — "

" _Me_?" came Aunt Petunia's indignant screech. "It was _your_ idea to stamp the magic out of him. Good riddance, is what I said, let the bloody boy do what he pleases and how does it matter to the rest of us? But now you've gone and _fucked_ us over, Vernon. How will this look to the neighbors, to our friends, to poor impressionable _Dudley_?"

Harry fought the urge to snort. _Poor impressionable Dudley_ was upstairs in the attic, smoking with his mates and probably stealing from the liquor cabinet. If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have wondered why the Dursleys couldn't smell the tobacco. As it was, he assumed that their brains were too clogged with dead cells.

Funnily enough, Aunt Petunia seemed to read his mind. Clearing her throat, she added, "But never mind that. I don't think it's Dudley we should be concerning ourselves with, Vernon. What about Harry? Goodness, what would Lily say if she knew _those people_ were trying to contact her son?"

"Wasn't she one of _them_?" Uncle Vernon grumbled in reply.

"Maybe so, but there is simply no way on Earth that she would possibly approve of this constant harassment. Owls swooping through our open windows, strangers in robes leaving letters on our doorstep . . . It's out of hand."

"We'll write back, then, and inform this school of theirs that Harry will not be attending." His voice was tinged with finality. It was the same tone he'd used with the school nurse, who had informed him that Dudley was dreadfully overweight and should consider an extreme diet.

 _What school?_ Harry wondered idly, rolling over onto his stomach. He wondered if he had been accepted into Smeltings, but doubted it. The only reason he had been permitted to apply was because his principal had told the Dursleys that Harry was chock-full of hidden potential. And Vernon and Petunia were all about keeping up appearances. They'd sent in Harry's letter, but it wouldn't have surprised him if the form had been lost in the mail.

"I don't think they take no for an answer," Aunt Petunia responded, rustling papers. "It says here that Harry is the most valued . . . _person_ of his generation."

"They'll forget about him quickly enough once another prodigy arrives to take his place. What do they know about _value_?" Uncle Vernon scoffed. "Do you know what value is, Petunia? Value is the fact that next time we visit Marcus in America, one pound will equal one dollar and fifty four cents their money. How's _that_ for value?"

Harry prayed that they would continue discussing this mysterious school. He knew they wouldn't let him go to any private academy, but he would at least like to know who had accepted him.

His wish was granted when Aunt Petunia coughed. "We should contact them in person. Make it entirely clear that this is ridiculous. We are not interested, and neither is Harry."

"Absolutely," said Uncle Vernon. "Once the freaks understand that we want him _here_ , in the _real_ world, they'll leave us alone."

There was a pause before Aunt Petunia responded, "Of course. I'll write them back immediately."

* * *

" _Harry!_ " Aunt Petunia called. A pan crashed against the stove. "Would you get down here and set the table? Or do you have something _better_ to do?"

Harry groaned, but stifled it quickly. His aunt had ears like a bat, and it wouldn't do him well to anger her. Especially when he had a question. His relatives _detested_ questions.

" _Harry!_ " she repeated.

"Coming!" He rolled off his bed and blinked. It always took a few moments for the room to stop swooping. Something had been wrong with his eyes lately; they focused on weird spots and wouldn't let him read.

Once he was sufficiently steadied, Harry made his way downstairs. Uncle Vernon was examining the paper, furiously flipping the pages back and forth. Aunt Petunia was broiling some sort of fish. Dudley, he assumed, was still in the attic.

There was a certain time when his inquiries were most likely to be answered: Aunt Petunia would be distributing food onto plates, Uncle Vernon would be sniffing and complimenting, and Dudley wouldn't be downstairs yet.

Harry counted himself off. _One, two, three._ "Auntie Petunia?"

" _Yes_ , Harry?"

"What . . . what school were you talking about earlier? With Uncle Vernon? Was I accepted into Smeltings?"

"Don't be _silly_ ," Uncle Vernon interrupted, glaring at his nephew. "If we had the chance to send you to Smeltings, off you'd go and never to darken our doorstep again."

Harry ignored the jab. "So where was it then?"

Aunt Petunia's eyes narrowed. "You can stop with the ridiculousness, Harry. You won't be going anyway."

"But where _was_ it? Can it hurt for me to know?"

Aunt Petunia gritted her teeth. "Dudley, darling, come down with your friends! They can certainly stay if they'd like."

"It was a school of _them_ ," Uncle Vernon mumbled, crossing himself. "God forbid."

" _Them?_ Who's _them_?"

"That will be _quite_ enough. There will no more discussion of this _place_ under my roof." Aunt Petunia dropped a handful of peels in the rubbish bin, then washed her hands. " _Dudley!_ "

"I'm here, Mum." Dudley swaggered into the kitchen, trailed by two scrawny boys. One still clutched a cigarette. When he caught Mrs. Dursley's eye, he made a halfhearted effort to shove it in the pocket of his khakis.

Aunt Petunia sighed. "Your supper is on the table. Harry, you can go back to your room — "

"But I haven't eaten!"

"You can eat _later_." Firmly, she took hold of Harry's shoulders and steered him towards the stairway. "There's more than enough food."

* * *

Hours after, Harry's stomach grumbled. He had never been called back downstairs, and he wasn't in the mood to be scolded by Uncle Vernon. Plus, Dudley's mates were staying the night, and Harry would rather starve in his room than be kicked around while chewing.

He watched the clock click to midnight, then 00:01. The house seemed to sigh as it settled down for the night. Everyone was asleep.

Exasperated, Harry yanked the sheets up to his neck and squeezed his eyes shut. His abdomen burned with hunger, and it occurred to him that he hadn't eaten all day. Perhaps he could slip down the steps and be back up in his room before Dudley realized he was awake. Doubtful, but possible.

Decision made, he blinked and brushed his black bangs out of his face. Untangling the blankets, he crept towards the door. The knob was cold as it spun under his fingers. Carefully edging it open, Harry slid through and inched down the staircase. Glancing upstairs, he flipped on the foyer light.

Upstairs, there was a creak.

Harry's mind flew into instant overdrive. If he shut the lights off and froze where he stood, maybe nobody would see him. If he simply made a mad dash for the kitchen, maybe they'd be so interested in why the lights were _on_ that he would be able to hide until they left.

Suddenly something landed on him. It was soft, and furry, and clearly had claws. One of them raked across his cheek, barely missing his eye.

"Sorry, Harry! My bad! I was bringing the cat downstairs." Dudley's smarmy voice pierced Harry's ears. The other boys giggled.

Angrily, Harry brushed orange fur off his arms. "Go away, Dudley."

"I don't think I will. This is my house, unfortunately enough for you." Fire flared, and a cigarette was passed around. "Now get outta the way, _Potter_."

"No."

" _No?_ " Dudley repeated, advancing. "Really? Should I fetch Mum and Dad?"

"They can't save you forever." Harry crossed his arms.

"I don't _need_ them to save me." One second, Dudley was perched on the steps. The next, he was hurling himself at his cousin. They landed in a heap on the hard floor, rolling and hissing, their fists flailing fruitlessly.

"Get _off_!" Harry pounded on Dudley's chest.

"Why don't _you_?" Dudley spat, grabbing a hunk of Harry's hair.

Dudley's cronies snickered and punched each other, pulling out phones so as to capture the fray.

" _GET OFF OF EACH OTHER THIS INSTANT!_ " Aunt Petunia's cold voice was sobering. "It is one o'clock in the morning. Dudley, come here, are you okay?" She paused to embrace her son before turning her glare to Harry. "Get back to bed. We'll discuss this atrocity in the morning. Piers, Dennis, I am _so_ sorry you were here for this. Please make yourselves comfortable again."

"It's okay, Mrs. Dursley," the taller of the two smiled, "I have two brothers."

"I'm glad to hear it. _Harry, get back upstairs._ "

When Aunt Petunia eventually returned to bed, she reported to her husband, "We have to send Harry away. I don't care if this is a school for blubbering baboons, Vernon. He's endangering our family, and he needs to go."

* * *

 **this is an adequately boring first chapter. sorry, guys, but i had to set up some exposition. i promise you all that it will heat up extremely soon. bear with me, please.**

 **the more reviews i get, the more inspired i'll be to finish writing and posting the next chapter! even a simple 'i liked it!' or 'you could do [_] better' is really appreciated.**

 **joyana**

 _ **5 - 13 - 15**_


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